Twist n Twine
by Blood Thirsty Angle
Summary: (AU verse) Sometimes love chooses you. After their mother is killed, Michael, Lucifer, and their younger siblings leave their home to go live with their uncle. While there, they discover family secrets that were better left hidden, and even discover that they have dark secrets of their own to hide. After all, love knows no bounds. (Title and summary subjected to change)
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note: **So hey guys! I recently watched the newest rendition of Flowers in the attic, and after that, I couldn't get the idea for this story out of my head__. And now, we have the story. I am subjected to changing the title because I am bad when it comes to creating them, so any ideas are fine. This is my first Supernatural fic. Well, sort of. I posted one back in 2012 and got positive feed back, but after I posted two chapters, I stopped getting reviews. So, please review! And follow! I would like in reviews though specific things, like certain things or scenes. Just saying I love it, it's great is nice, but doesn't tell me what you like. I like constructive criticism, but anything about homosexuality or rude comments is not acceptable. If you do so, I will remove the review. If you have a problem with that, then I offer you a free ticket out the door. After all, no one is forcing you to read this. Anyways, happy readings :)_

_**Warnings: **__Incest, child abuse/neglect, disappearing fathers, psychotic break downs, violence, possibly more as the story goes on._

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to CW and Erik Cripke. I only own this story and maybe minor, minor OCs along the way_

_The world we knew won't come back,_

_The time we've lost can't get back,_

_The life we had won't be ours again,_

_~Never too late-Three Days Grace~_

_**Ages: **_

_**Michael: 18**_

_**Lucifer: 16**_

_**Gabriel: 12**_

_**Anna: 8**_

_**Castiel: 5**_

_**(Lawrence High school, September 12, 2013, Michael's pov.)**_

It was 1:15 in the afternoon when the accident happened.

Michael could remember where he was that day; sitting in his advanced statistics class boredly taking notes, his eyes shifting from the teacher to the window to observe the sun shining on the deep green grass. His mind had shifted to his younger brothers and sister, wondering how their day had been going. His younger brother Lucifer, a sophomore, was in the room right next door. No doubt he was causing trouble for his poor geometry teacher.

Yes, it had started out as a normal day. He'd woken up at six thirty, helped get his younger siblings up since his father had left early to go to the office. His mother, Eve, was a nurse and she had spent another late shift at the hospital so he didn't want to disturb her. He had flipped Lucifer's mattress over, coaxed Gabriel with the promise of chocolate pancakes, and gently woke up the younger two. Anna was never difficult, she was a morning person and Castiel always looked up at him with sleepy blue eyes.

They'd showered, eaten breakfast, and headed off to school and preschool without too much fuss. Besides the fact that Gabriel had put a little gum in Anna's long red hair. Michael had practically kicked him out of the car while Lucifer helped remove the sticky pink stuff.

He was now sitting here bored out of his mind while his teacher droned on. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine he was at that beach in Florida they went to last summer. The white sand between his toes, the wind blowing his smooth black hair, the scent of the sea in his nose, it was all perfect.

"Michael Novak?"

He opened his eyes to see the teacher staring at him. He was afraid he'd been caught day dreaming, but she only looked at him in sadness. "Michael, we need to talk. Something has happened."

Only minutes later, with Lucifer by his side, they'd found out their mother and Castiel had been in a car crash. Castiel was fine for the most part, besides a few bruises and scrapes, but he was silent when people tried to talk to him. The poor child was traumatized, only clutching onto his father and siblings with terrified eyes.

Their mother hadn't been so lucky. She had died instantly, the steering wheel crushing her lungs and heart. Their father, Chuck, was in a daze, as if he hadn't realized that his wife was gone. He just sat in silence for a long time with a bottle of brandy and locked himself away in his office. Michael didn't say anything, he just tried to maintain as much order as possible.

The funeral was a week later. People from school, the hospital, and church came to see them. Anna had been clutching Michael's hand, staring at the corpse of her mother with teary hazel eyes. A woman had come up, smiling at them and saying how sorry she was for their loss.

If Anna hadn't been there, Michael was afraid he would have screamed at the lady.

This all led to where they were tonight on September 30, two days after his eighteenth birthday. They didn't celebrate it and Michael had found that he couldn't bring himself to care. Michael had been helping Gabriel with his homework when Chuck had come down the stairs, cell phone clutched in his hand. "Pack your things," he ordered. "We're going on a trip."

Michael frowned. "Where to?"

"We're going to my brother's house. Please don't ask questions, just do as I ask."

Michael stood to attention, silently ushering Gabriel out of the room to go pack a suitcase. He didn't pack a whole lot, mostly clothes and a few books as well as his laptop, cellphone, and IPod. He helped Anna and Castiel pack their things, the younger two being a bit fussy and curious as to why they were leaving. As far as Michael was concerned, he didn't even know his father had a brother.

They'd crammed their things into the van and sped off into the night, their house looking dark and abandoned when they left. Things were quiet, until Gabriel spoke up in a needy voice.

"Daaadddd, can we turn on some music? I'm booorrreeedddd."

Michael turned around in the shotgun seat, giving Gabriel a quick glare. "Stop whining. Why don't you listen to your iPod?"

"It died."

"Read a book."

"Books are boring."

Michael grimaced at his father's annoyed expression through the rear view mirror. He took out his IPod charger, handing it to the twelve year old. Gabriel flashed him a grin, plugging it into his device and settling into his seat. Michael sighed, looking at his other siblings. Anna was coloring, showing Castiel how to color inside the lines. The five year old watched intently, blue eyes set in concentration. Lucifer had his eyes closed, his head leaning on the window.

"Dad?"

Chuck glanced at him, jaw set firmly. "Hm? What is it Michael?"

"Who is Crowley? And why haven't we met him?"

Chuck's hand tightened on the wheel. "Crowley and I don't exactly see eye to eye. He didn't like me marrying Eve."

"Oh. I see."

The older man gave a tired smile. "But don't worry about it. Just look after your brothers and sister."

"Alright."

There was no more conversation after that.

"Michael? Hey Michael, wake up! We're here!"

Michael blinked his eyes open feeling Chuck nudge him in the ribs. He stretched, his legs and arms tensing. Chuck leapt out of the van, opening the hatch to get the suitcases out. Lucifer let out a groan, looking as if he wanted to go back to sleep. Michael didn't blame him; it was past midnight.

"Come on Cas, time to get up."

Michael unbuckled Castiel out of the seat. The child was surprisingly light, resting his head on Michael's shoulder as he supported him on his hip. All of them grabbed their grabbed their suitcases, staring in awe at the large house. It was more of a Victorian house, with a wrought iron gate and a gray stone fountain. Yet despite the grandeur of the home, Michael thought it looked…creepy.

Chuck walked up to the door, smiling reassuringly at his kids. A man opened the door, shoving back a large black dog. His eyes racked over Chuck with annoyance, as if he didn't want him there, before letting him and the others in.

"Well look what the cat dragged in," the man sneered. "Haven't seen you in a while Chucky."

Chuck flinched at the nickname. "It's nice to see you, Crowley," he looked over at his children. "These are my children: Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, Anael, and Castiel.

"Lovely," Crowley said dryly, his tone stating otherwise. "Seems like you and Eve never got over your obsession with angel names."

Castiel looked at Crowley with wide eyes. "Mommy?"

Chuck opened his mouth to say something , but Crowley let out a laugh. "Still thinks his Mommy is here, does he?"

Castiel's lower lip trembled, his eyes beginning to water. Lucifer glared, his hand tightening around Anna's. "Shut up!" he growled. "Don't talk to him like that!"

Chuck placed a hand on his brother. "Please Crowley, don't mention her name. It's only been two weeks."

Crowley simply rolled his eyes. "I really don't care if it's only been two weeks. She's dead, move on!" he looked at Michael, his eyes lighting in a strange way. "Your second oldest boy, Michael is it?"

"It's Lucifer."

Crowley eyed his brother. "Don't care," he stepped forward a little. "You need to learn some respect, boy. This is my house you're standing in."

Lucifer only glared. "I don't care. No one speaks to my brother like that."

"I could kick you out of my house right now."

"Do it then. Does it look like I care?"

Anna looked up at Lucifer, hazel eyes fearful. Michael nudged his brother, giving a silent plea for him to back down. Lucifer looked at him sharply before looking at Anna and wrapping an arm around her. Michael sighed, giving Chuck a tired look. "If we're going to stay here, may we please know where we're going to stay? We can't sleep on the floor, can we?"

Crowley stared at him, eye brow perched upwards. "I suppose I should show your rooms. But after the way your brother was talking to me, I don't think I want to."

Chuck looked at Lucifer. "Apologize. Please."

Lucifer only looked at the wall. "Why?"

Michael nudged him. "Just do as Dad says."

"But why? He doesn't deserve it. You saw how mean he was to Cas!"

"Lucifer!" Michael glared at him. "Just do it."

Their gazes met heatedly, Michael's gray blue eyes clashing with Lucifer's pale blue. They stared at each other, neither one wanting to back down. The room was silent, everyones' eyes on the two brothers. Finally, Lucifer turned away to face Crowley. "Sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have been impertinent."

Crowley smirked. "Better. Now, follow me."

The Scottish sounding man led them down the hall, walking up two flights of stairs and down two hallways until they reached a slightly large room with three beds. "This is your room," Crowley said shortly. "Don't like it, complain to someone who cares."

Chuck gave his brother a thin smile. "Thank you, Crowley."

"Just keep your children under control. Don't want them sneaking around with each other, do we?" he gave his brother one last sneer before closing the door.

Chuck sighed. "I'll be in my old room. I'll see you all in the morning," he grabbed his suitcase, opening the mahogany door. "Goodnight."

The five of them stood in silence before Michael indicated to the smallest bed with the pink and blue quilt. "Anna, you sleep in that bed. Gabriel and Lucifer will share that bed over there and Castiel and I will share this one."

Gabriel made a face. "I don't want to share a bed with Luci! He has cold feet!"

"And Gabriel snores."

"So do you!"

"Why you little s-"

Michael clamped his hands tightly over Castiel's ears. "Enough! There are children in the room," he scolded. "Lucifer, why don't you share a bed with Cas?"

Lucifer snorted. "He moves around too much. And he cuddles. I don't do cuddling."

Cas looked at his older brother. "Luci doesn't like me?" his voice sounded crushed.

Michael kneeled down. "Of course not. Luce loves you, he's just being cranky," he glared at his younger brother, who looked a little guilty. "Since he's being crabby, why don't you share a bed with Gabe?"

Gabriel sighed. "Fine. Hey wait a minute, why does Anna get her own bed?"

"Because she's a girl. And since there's four of us boys, it makes sense."

Anna gave Gabriel a smug look and stuck her tongue out. Gabriel glared at her and Michael noted the devilish gleam he got in his eye. She would pay for this, that he was sure of. Michael only shook his head sadly, knowing there was nothing he could really do about Gabriel and his ways.

The second his body crawled under the cool mattress was when he felt truly tired. The mattress dipped beside him and he felt the cooler temperature of his brother. Lucifer had his back to him, so all he could see was his scruffy blonde hair. He closed his eyes, listening to the chirp of cicadas outside and the gentle breathing of his siblings.

"Michael?"

He opened his eyes when he heard Lucifer's voice, turning his head to face his brother. "Yeah?"

"I don't like it here."

Michael smiled gently. "Me either, but since Dad thinks it's best we stay here, then it's for the best. Besides, we have a whole house to explore as long as we stay away from Uncle Crowley. And we have each other too."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "I still don't like it. I wish Mom were here."

There was an awkward pause for a moment before Michael responded softly. "Me too," he looked at the waning crescent outside the window. "But she's watching over us right now, I just know it."

That didn't change the annoyed look on Lucifer's face. "But why did we have to come here? It's obvious Crowley doesn't like us. And what did he mean by "Don't want them sneaking around with each other?"

Michael frowned. "I don't know. I just wonder why we've never even met this guy."

"Let's ask Dad tomorrow."

"No," Michael shook his head. "He's made it clear to me that he doesn't want to talk about it and told me not to mention it again, so I won't and you shouldn't either."

"Damn what he says, I want some answers!"

He couldn't help but grin. "Now you sound like Gabriel when he was three and Mom wouldn't let him buy candy," the smile tightened on his face. "We'll get answers. For now, we have to watch over the others. I don't trust Crowley."

"Agreed," Lucifer agreed, turning over on his side. "Well, good night."

"Good night, Luce."

* * *

**_Word Count: 2,582_**

_Well, should I continue or not? The choice is up to you, fellow fanfiction readers and writers!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: **I know it's been a while since I updated this, but here is chapter two. Please, please review!_

_**Warnings: **None for this chapter_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. Any other characters in this story are OCs_

_Oh yesterday, came suddenly,  
_

_Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say,_

_I said something wrong now I long for yesterday_

_~Yesterday by The Beatles~_

_**(Crowley's house, October 1, 2013, Lucifer's pov)**_

"Come on Luci get up! Wake up, wake up wake up!"

Lucifer groaned, burying his face in the pillow and turning to the other side. "Go away Gabriel," he muttered. "It's too early."

"No it's not! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, it's going to be a great day!"

Cracking one eye open, Lucifer looked out through the window. "It's raining. How can it be a great day?"

The bed creaked with new weight, a high pitched voice screaming in his ear. "Wake up Luci! Michael says to get up!" Anna let out a giggle, red heir flying out of her braid. "Get up! Get up!"

Lucifer chucked his pillow at her, not expecting her to fall off the bed with a loud thud. She let out a cry, which soon turned into a wail. He groaned again, not meaning to push her off the bed. He sat up, trying to comfort her, but all she did was run out the door only to appear a few seconds later with Michael, who was less than pleased.

"Lucifer, did you push Anna off the bed?"

Michael was dressed nicely, as he usually was. Shirt tucked into his pants and looking fresh and formal. He looked tired though, the dark circles were forming under his eyes. "Did you push her off the bed?" he asked again.

Lucifer sighed. "On accident."

"So you did."

"Yes, but it was an accident!"

Michael shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line. "Apologize to Anna and then get dressed. Crowley wants us down for breakfast."

"Since when do we care what that bastard wants?"

"Language!"

Anna tugged on Michael's hand. "Mikey, what's a bastard?"

"It's nothing Anna," he shot Lucifer a dirty look. "You and Gabe go down to breakfast, Luce and I will be down there soon."

"Okay!"

The minute she scurried off Michael rounded on him. "Why would you go around saying stuff like that? The last thing we need is Anna knowing swear words. What would Dad say if he heard her saying stuff like that and finding out where it came from?"

Lucifer snorted. "Please, that's not a very harmful word. At least I didn't say fuck."

"That's not the point!" Michael stressed. "Just…try not to do it again, okay?"

"Whatever."

Michael sighed through his nose, but took off out of the door and down the stairs. Lucifer rolled his eyes, thinking that Michael was being a drama king again. Usually it was everyone else that called him that, so calling Michael that was a nice change. He slipped on some new clothes, taking his time to get down the stairs and into the dining room where everyone else was.

"Well, look who finally decided to join us."

All eyes were on him as he walked into the room, taking a seat next to Gabriel and across from Michael. Crowley sat at the head of the table, sneering down at him as he did to everyone else. "Don't plan on being late for every breakfast now, do we?" the older man let out a short laugh. "We can't have you go undernourished."

Lucifer didn't even blink as he felt Michael's foot nudge him from under the table, shooting him a worried look. Lucifer flashed a grin. "Nope. I like a good and wholesome breakfast," he looked at the empty plate. "What are we having anyway?"

"Radish salad."

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "Radish salad? What the crap is that?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the small boy. "It's food. Don't like it, go hungry. I don't really care."

Castiel poked Michael's arm. "Where's Daddy?"

Lucifer shifted his eyes to the empty seat at the end of the table. Crowley shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "He went back to your home to go get something. He didn't say when, or if, he's coming back."

Anna frowned. "Daddy's not coming back?"

"Probably not."

Tears welled in the red head's eyes and Castiel's eyes widened. Michael put a comforting arm around her, shushing her as he glared at Crowley. "Why would you say something like that? They're just kids!"

Crowley didn't even acknowledge him. He continued to sip his tea, unaffected by the quiet sniffles of the two younger children. Lucifer looked to Gabriel, noticing the way the younger male bit his lip and how his brow furrowed in frustration, trying not to start crying. Lucifer patted his hand, giving a small smile before turning to the younger ones. "Dad's coming back," he lied, the smile convincing enough. "He just has some stuff to take care of."

Anna sniffed. "Is he?"

"Of course. Why would he leave us here all alone with a stranger, hm?"

The eight year old blinked, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Okay," she murmured. "I believe you, Luci."

"Aw, how touching," Crowley leaned back in his seat, observing the family in amusement. "You all care for each other so much. Really though, it's quite sickening."

"How is it sickening?" Lucifer asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're just jealous that not a single one of us loves you. Honestly, even my geometry teacher is more attractive than you."

"Aren't you just clever," Crowley shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. "You're a cheeky little brat, you know that?"

"I've been called worse."

Crowley glared daggers at him, but he continued to ignore him. He focused on the silverware lying on the table, noting how pointy the fork was and how round the spoon was. Even the butter knifes looked like they were sharpened daily. The food came out the second Lucifer's stomach rumbled, all of their noses wrinkling as a reddish looking salad was placed on their plates. Castiel poked at it experimentally, watching as it jiggled around. Anna and Gabriel stared at, lips curling in disgust. Even Michael looked at warily.

Crowley gave another smile. "Eat up.

Michael shot his uncle a look before picking up his fork and stabbing it in some of the salad. He brought it up to his lips hesitantly before swallowing it with a tight grimace. He looked to the others, a smile on his face. "It's not so bad," he took another bite. "It's just like…like…having some of Mom's Caesar salad."

Cas' eyes lit up. "It is?"

"Try it and see."

Cas put a forkful in his mouth, chewing it slowly before smiling. "It tastes like Mommy's salad!"

Anna and Gabriel put the food in their mouths as well, looking at Michael expectantly before agreeing with Castiel. Crowley looked on in disgust, but said nothing else throughout breakfast. Lucifer felt like throwing up, but put up the appearance of liking it for the others' sake. Everyone was done within ten minutes, drinking their milk quickly to get rid of the foul taste in their mouths. Crowley leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. "Before any of you leave, we have a few rules to discuss."

"Like what?" Gabriel snorted.

Crowley ignored him. "For one, you are not allowed to leave this house. At all. Even if you want to go smoke pot or whatever it is you kids do these days. Second, when I tell you to shut up, you shut up! Third, when I have business meetings here, you will stay up in the attic for a few hours until I say you can come down. While you're up there, you will not make any noise. Is that too hard for you to follow?" He gave an extra hard look to Lucifer and Gabriel.

"No," Michael replied, back straight. "We can follow rules."

"Breakfast will be at seven thirty, Lunch at twelve, and dinner at six. And there will be no loud talking, or I will sick Growly on you," he patted the large black dog's head. "And none of you will be allowed to be in groups of two. I want you all together where I can see you or on your own."

Gabriel cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because I said so," he was about to continue on when the doorbell rang. "Now if you excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to. Go on, SHOO!"

They scampered off upstairs, rushing into their room. Michael closed the door softly, leaning against the door frame with a frown. "You all heard him, right?" he watched as they nodded their heads. "Good, now find something quiet to do."

Anna pulled Castiel over to her bed, both of them jumping on to the mattress as she pulled out a few coloring books. Gabriel stood over them, laughing at Castiel's funny looking coloring style while Anna glared sharply at him.

Lucifer went over to Michael, nudging him in the arm. "Wanna go upstairs? I want to check out the attic. Maybe we'll find a ghost."

Michael rolled his eyes. "We can't go off in pairs of two, remember? I don't break rules, Luce, unlike you."

He put a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. "I am wounded, dear brother," he snickered. "Must you always be a fun sucker?"

Michael frowned. "Fun sucker?"

"Yes. Fun sucker," he reached for the door knob, opening it just a little. "Well I'm going to go explore the attic, whether you come with me or not."

"Lucifer!"

"Bye bye!"

Michael glanced back quickly at the children. "Gabriel, Luce and I will be back in a few minutes. _Stay here_," he stressed the last few words before tip toeing away with Lucifer.

The attic wasn't very hard to find, considering there was a single door at the top of the stairs on the third floor. They opened it, shivering at the chilly wind that blew through the rafters. The room wasn't heated like the rest of the house, yet it was surprisingly well kept. Not a single shingle was missing from the roof and the boxes were piled in a neat order. Other furniture was draped across the room, but they had not one speck of dust on them.

"I figured the attic would be filthy," Lucifer spoke up. "I mean, look at Crowley. He's not exactly Miss America."

Michael smiled. "Well he's not a woman."

"But he is ugly."

"If you say so."

Lucifer sat down on one of the office chairs, rolling back and forth across the floor. "I don't see why we can't go off in pairs of two. What is he expecting us to do? Set the house on fire?"

Michael shrugged. "Knowing you and Gabriel, that is right up your alley."

"And he doesn't want us sneaking around. What is that supposed to mean? And why didn't he like Mom?"

"I don't know," Michael admitted. "I just have a feeling Dad, and even Uncle Crowley, are hiding things from us. Every family had their secrets."

Lucifer nodded. "But what could they be? Maybe Mom was a witch."

"Lucifer!" Michael glared at him. "Mom wasn't a witch; we used to go to church every Sunday before Castiel was born. And she always prayed before she went to bed and wore her rosary on Sunday. She was not a witch!"

"Calm down, I was only kidding," he looked at Michael's face, seeing the grief stricken look in his eyes. He felt guilty for saying that. Michael had cried not even once during the whole ordeal. He kept himself busy with the younger ones, helping them with homework and their chores. He played with Castiel and taught him a few basic things like counting and his ABCs. He kept the emotions inside, afraid of being weak in front of them. Lucifer sighed, getting out of the chair and taking his brother by the shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Don't cry."

"I'm not crying."

"You look like you're going to."

Michael wiped his eyes. "Am not," his eyes were still watery, the gray blue orbs looking rather blurry. "I will not ever cry. I can't."

He sighed. "If you say so," he patted his brother's shoulder before taking another glance around the room. "This place isn't so bad."

"I thought you hated the house?"

"I do, but it's mainly just Crowley I hate. We should come up here every day, just the two of us for an hour or so to get away from the little ones."

Michael shook his head. "We can't be alone together."

"We're alone together right now. So we're already breaking that rule, so why not do it again?"

"I suppose," Michael said hesitantly. "But what if we're caught?"

"Crowley's too busy to spy on us 24/7. It'll be fine; stop worrying."

"It's my job to worry, Luce."

"Obviously."

"I don't like it here Luci. When can we go home?"

Lucifer looked down at Castiel, who poked at his dinner with a look of disgust. The five year old frowned at him. "The food is gross. See, the chicken is cold and I don't like turnips!"

Lucifer looked at his own dinner and agreed with his little brother. "You're right, it is gross. So how about we get rid of it?"

Gabriel looked up enthusiastically. "How?"

"We pile it all together and open up the window. The window is right above a thick pile of grass, so Crowley will never think to look there when we pour this crappy food right out the window."

Anna clapped her hands in glee. "I like this idea! Let's do it now!"

"Oh no you don't!" Michael walked over, wiping a bit of food from his mouth with his napkin. "You will eat what is given to you or," his voice turned to a Scottish accent, a grin forming on his face. "Or I will sick Growly on you!" He then proceeded to tickle Anna, who shrieked in a fit of giggles.

Lucifer let out a smile at the scenery, knowing that Michael was usually firm and strict when giving out an order. When Michael was done tickling Anna, he sat her back down on her chair. "Now finish your dinner. I know it's gross, but we're a lot more fortunate than some other children."

Lucifer nodded, taking another bite of the gross chicken. "He's right," he agreed after swallowing. "So eat up."

When they were done eating, Michael looked at his cell phone, frowning at the time. "It's past eight. Time for you kids to go to bed."

"Aww! But I don't want to," Gabriel groaned. "I'm not tired."

The smile from Michael's face. "Gabriel…don't argue with me."

"But Michael…."

"No buts."

"I'm not tired either!" Anna piped up, looking over at Cas. "And Cas isn't either!"

"Yeah!"

Lucifer could see the stress lines beginning to appear on his brother, and although Michael was typically a patient man, even he had a breaking point. He quickly picked Cas up, putting him on his bed. "Now, now, let's not make Michael mad. How about I read you a story?"

Cas cocked his head. "A story?"

"Yes. Do you have one in mind?"

Cas picked up his build a bear that had been lying on his pillow. "I want to hear about the velveteen rabbit. Mommy tells me that story every night."

Lucifer frowned, glancing at Michael who had been looking at his hands. Their eyes met, and Michael nodded quickly. He turned back to Cas with a smile, noting how the other two soon joined him on the bed with expectant eyes.

"Once upon a time, there was a velveteen rabbit…"

* * *

**Word count: 2,761 words**

Review please!


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note:** Alright, so not a lot happens in this chapter, but a few interactions that happen will play a big part later on. Enjoy!_

_**Warnings: **None_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural and never will._

_Keep watching from your picket fence,_

_You keep talking but it makes no sense,_

_You say we're not responsible,_

_But we are, we are, we are_

_~We are by Ana Johnson~_

* * *

_**(Michael's pov, October 5, 2013, Crowley's house)**_

"Anna's birthday is in six days."

Michael looked over at Lucifer from his spot on the old leather couch, his ear buds dangling from his ears. "Is it?" he looked at the calendar on his phone. "I almost forgot."

Lucifer grinned, tossing a wad of paper onto the floor. "That's not good, Mikey," he taunted. "If you keep forgetting things, we may have to send you to a nursing home."

"Don't call me Mikey."

His brother just grinned and tossed another paper ball at him. "Stop it," Michael commanded firmly, only to receive another hit. "I said stop!"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Chill out, I was only having fun," he tossed a wad of paper in the air like a ball. "Fun sucker."

His eye twitched. "I'm not a fun sucker."

"Yes you are."

He tossed a pillow at his brother, smirking as it hit him square in the face. The smirk soon fell as they heard Anna's voice sounding from the other side of the attic, Cas' voice not far behind. He smoothed back some of his black hair, looking to Lucifer. "What are we going to do? She's never had a birthday where she didn't get a present."

Lucifer shrugged. "She's tough, and you've got to remember she's no spoiled brat."

"I know, but she'd be crushed," a silent pause came between the two of them, Michael staring at his hands while Lucifer stared off into the wall. "Have you heard from Dad?"

Lucifer glanced at him. "No. I figured he'd call you first."

"Why would you assume that?"

His younger brother shrugged, leaning in the chair. "You're the oldest and the most responsible. You're told to do something and you do it."

"Well you're Dad's favorite," Michael held up his hand as Lucifer opened his mouth. "Don't deny it, it's obvious. You've always been his favorite."

Lucifer smirked. "Jealous?"

"No, not really. It doesn't mean that Dad loves me any less."

Lucifer looked at him for a minute; eyebrow raised, but didn't say anything. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glued to the wall as Michael stood up to rummage through some books lying on the bookshelf near the wall. Rain pounded against the window, the drops sliding down the glass and onto the shingles of the roof. Michael felt relaxed by the sound as he sorted through the books. He pulled out ones of different shapes and sizes, some thicker than the others. Some were even lined in gold, looking delicate and well kept.

He pulled out a black binded book, finding it odd that it had no words on it. He flipped through it, realizing that it was a scrapbook, full of pictures with captions underneath them starting from the 1850s. He flipped through it further, frowning when he saw a picture of three children, the girl sitting on a chair while two boys stood next to her. Neither of them were smiling. In fact, they looked rather bored.

"Luce, come look at this," he motioned for his brother to come over. "Don't these people look familiar?"

Lucifer looked over his shoulder before taking the book from his hands. He studied it for the longest time, eyes scanning over the image. "It's Dad, Mom, and Crowley."

Michael took the book again. "Why would Mom be in that picture? Dad told me a long time ago that he didn't meet Mom till college."

"Maybe it was a different Eve?"

"Luce, that's _Mom_. Even I can tell that," he turned back to the picture. "She looks like Anna. Only without red hair."

Lucifer traced the picture with a slim finger. "Maybe Dad forgot that he met Eve when they were kids. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding?"

"Doubt it," Michael set the picture back in the book, looking further in the pages. "Look here," he indicated towards a list of names that had been copied. "It says our grandparent's names, and apparently they had three kids. Crowley and Chuck, obviously, but the third name is scratched out."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "Well that's weird."

"That's all you have to say?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "What did you want me to say? Oooh, let's go on and adventure Mikey! We can be like Dora and Boots!"

Michael shut the book with a loud snap, setting it gently back on the book shelf. "I just figured you'd suggest something about asking dad or even Crowley," he turned to his brother with a wry smile. "I think it's best we leave it alone. If Dad wants to explain why we have a third aunt or uncle, he can tell us."

Lucifer frowned. "Well don't you think we have the right to know?"

"I…"

"Michael!"

Castiel's head appeared from the top of the stairs, the small boy leaning on the top step. "Uncle Crowley wants to see you! And he sounded kind of grumpy."

Michael and Lucifer exchanged looks before Michael stepped forward towards the stairs, ruffling Cas' hair and descending down the creaking steps. He made his way through the seemingly never ending hallways and stairs until he arrived in Crowley's office, the older man waiting for him with a sour look on his face. "You there, you're Michael, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I am."

The older man held out his hand, his head motioning him forward. "Your father's on the phone. He wanted to speak to you."

Michael took the phone from him, bringing to his ear and spoke into it. "Hello?"

"_Michael! Thank goodness you answered quickly or else I would have been stuck talking to Crowley."_

Michael frowned into the phone. "Where are you? We haven't seen you in days?" he paused, the frown deepening. "Are you…feeling okay?"

"_Of course! Why wouldn't I be? I've just been a bit…distracted recently."_

"Okay, fair enough, but why do we have to be here?" he ignored the glare from Crowley. "We all wish you were here."

"_I'll come and get you guys when I can. Right now…I just need some space."_

"Space?"

"_You know I love you all, but the younger ones can be a handful and I just cannot concentrate recently. I need time to sort things out. Can you help me by looking after the younger ones?"_

"Of course, Dad," Michael shifted his phone to his other ear. "Hey Dad, you do remember that Anna's birthday is in a few days, right?"

"_Of course I remember! I'll try to be there, okay?"_

"Okay."

"_I've got to go now. Take care, alright? I love you."_

"Love you too. Bye."

Michael turned back to Crowley, stepping back a little as the older man towered over him. "I hope you're not turning into some whinny little bitch crying about why his daddy isn't here. It would be most…unfortunate if your father had to come back to see you black and blue."

Michael paled. "Of course not. I was only meaning it like I want to be back at our own home and school. To not cause you anymore trouble."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes!"

Crowley stared at him for the briefest moment, his dark eyes blank and unreadable. Before Michael could stop him, Crowley's hand reached out and grabbed him roughly by the chin. Michael hissed at the contact, but the looking in his uncle's eyes held him in place. The grip on his chin felt bruising, and he was sure he was going to have a mark on it by the time the older man let him go.

"You look similair to your father," Crowley said absent mindedly, tilting Michael's chin up to study him further. "But you have your mother's eyes. None of the others do, heh."

Michael glared at him, tugging his face out of the hand. "Don't touch me," he warned, stepping back from the taller man. "Or I'll tell my Dad. I'm sure he'll be upset with you if you hurt me or the others."

Crowley waved his hand, walking over to his desk and sat down. "Your father doesn't scare me," he began. "If anything, he's more afraid of me. Now, go be a good little boy and get out of my sight."

"Don't need to tell me twice," Michael muttered and hurried out of the room before the man could say anything more. He trudged slowly up the stairs, rubbing his chin tenderly. He could already feel a bruise forming, but that wasn't what bothered him. The way Crowley had looked at him, the way he touched him, it felt wrong. His stomach churned at the memory. Why would Crowley say something like that?

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Lucifer commented as he flipped through a magazine, his pale eyes looking up to see him. "What, did Crowley scare you? What's wrong with your chin?"

"Nothing," Michael waved him off, not wanting to drag his younger brother into this. "Don't worry about it."

The second he sat down, he felt Lucifer slide into the seat next to his, staring at his chin intensely. "He touched you, didn't he?"

Michael only nodded, knowing now there was no point in lying to him. "He grabbed my chin and said something really weird," he narrowed his eyes at the thought. "He said that I have mom's eyes."

"Wow. I never pegged him for a Harry Potter fan."

"Luce!"

"What?" his younger brother leaned back, not meeting his eyes. "Everyone in Harry Potter comments on Harry's eyes. I was only trying to lighten thigns up."

Michael crossed his arms, glaring at the coffee table in front of them. "Well, it was still weird. And the way he looked," he shivered once. "It wasn't natural. In fact, it made me feel sick."

Lucifer leaned over next to him, patting his arm reassuringly. "Just keep away from him; he's a creep. He's jealous that you inherited mom's good looks and he didn't."

"If you say so."

"Luci!"

Both of them turned to see Anna running up the stairs, her red hair uneven as she collapsed into Lucifer's arms. Michael cringed a little, annoyance corsing thorugh his veins as he noticed more gum in her hair. There was only one person who would have done that….

"Gabriel!" he stood up, seeing as the younger boy was standing in the middle of the attic. "Why did you stick gum in Anna's hair?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know."

"I don't know is not an answer!" He crossed his arms, glaring harshly. "Do I need to tell dad that you're casuing toruble? Because I am very sure he doesn't want to deal with that. And what would mom say right now?"

Gabriel looked down to the floor, sadness welling up in his eyes. Turning around, he could hear Anna give a sharp intake of air and see tears wellign up in her eyes. Lucifer just sighed, opening his other arm and allowing Gabriel in it. "There, there," he whispered softly. "Michael didn't mean to make you sad."

Michael just walked out of the attic, biting his lower lip as to not to make a sound. He headed into their room, slamming the door shut and flopping down onto his bed, shutting his eyes tightly.

"Michael?"

He jumped, hearing Castiel's voice. Opening his eyes, he could see the small boy there, looking curiously at him. "What is it Cas?" he asked wearily.

Castiel shfited, looking uncomfortable. "Are you and Luci fighting?"

He blinked. "No. Why would you ask something like that?"

The child fidgeted slightly. "You only slam the door when you're angry. Are you mad at me?"

He couldn't stop the smile that spread out on his lips. "No Cas, I'm not mad at you," he pulled the small boy onto his lap. "You haven't done anything, so why would I be mad at you?"

Castiel smled at that and pulled out a book that had been lying near the bed. "Will you read to me? Anna and Gabriel are too busy fighting."

With a small roll of the eyes, he picked up the book and oepned it, trying to escape reality as he talked about the little blue engine that could.

* * *

_Review please!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** _Yeah, so, it's been a year! Sorry for the wait! I kind of lost interest and then I remembered I had this story, so I must finish it. I have a whole slew of new ideas, so I hope you'll stick around. Can't say when I'll update next; I'm a busy college student and I'm sure we all know how taxing and draining schoolwork can be. Anyways, review!_

**Warnings:** _There is a rape scene, so if you want to skip that, it's okay_

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything._

* * *

**_(Michael's pov, October 9, Crowley's house)_**

"I'm going to talk to Crowley."

He stood in front of his brother, who stared at him for the longest time. There was nothing but silence for a few minutes before Lucifer spoke up, expression clear that he thought he'd gone crazy. "You want to talk to Crowley?" he then proceeded to laugh, tilting his head back and causing Michael to bite the inside of his cheek. His brother then looked at him, wiping an imaginary tear from his face. "Good luck with that."

"I'm serious, Luce."

"I know. That's why I find this so funny."

He had to roll his eyes at that, adjusting the collar to his clean white shirt and turned on his heel to walk down the attic. "If you're not going to be supportive, then fine," he grumbled and almost took a step when he felt a hand grab his. He didn't even have to turn around to see who it was. "Luce, I'll be fine. It's just Crowley."

"I know," he heard his brother sigh. "Just don't go all self-sacrificing and shit."

"I won't."

He pulled his hand out of his brother's and headed quickly down the stairs. For such a large house, it wasn't too hard to find Crowley's office. Located on the first floor of the manor and sitting towards the south wing. The older man was at his desk, typing away at his laptop with his dog resting nearby at his side. He didn't look up for the longest time, and when he did, he only looked irritated. "Didn't I tell you and your siblings to stay upstairs?"

"Yes, sir," Michael stepped forward, keeping his voice and expression polite. "But I have something I would like to ask you."

Crowley sighed, clearly even more annoyed now. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and Michael tried to ignore the dog growling at him. "Get on with it then," Crowley demanded impatiently. "Unlike you, I actually have important things to do."

He didn't even bat an eyelash, though his heart slammed against his rib cage. "My sister, Anna's, birthday is in two days. I would like to ask your permission to go out and get her a present."

"No."

He tried to appear composed; he truly did, but a sharp intake of air gave him away. "No?" he asked, trying not to sound desperate. "Uncle Crowley, sir, why-"

"Because I don't owe you brats anything," Crowley replied, in the same tone he always had when addressing them. "I didn't even want you brats here in the first place and your father essentially has to do anything I ask. He's a bit of a one trick pony, but he'll do. For now," he waved his hand dismissively. "But I don't really care if that redheaded brat doesn't get anything for her birthday."

"Don't call my sister a brat!"

"Or what?" Crowley sneered. "You're not helping your case by talking rude to me."

"Please, Uncle Crowley," he sighed, wetting his lips and took a deep breath. "Sir, I'm sorry we're here. I didn't mean for us to inconvenience you. But I'll do anything you want. Anything you s-"

Crowley held up a hand, stopping him mid sentence. "Excuse me, but repeat that last part."

"Anything you want?"

The middle aged man had this pleased look in his eye; almost a little too pleased. He pulled away from his desk, eyes never leaving his for a second. "Yes, that appears to be what you said," he sauntered around the table to him. "You would do anything, _anything;_ to make sure those stupid siblings of yours are happy."

Michael frowned, mind running wildly in his head. This didn't sound right; something wasn't right. What was he getting at? "Yes, sir," he replied with a straight face. "I would do anything."

"Hm, well, that changes everything then," Crowley replied cryptically, stepping even closer to him. He gripped his chin again, tilting his head up to take a look at his sharp blue-gray eyes. "And which one are you again…Michael, is it?"

"Yes," he responded carefully, trying very hard not to jerk his face away. "I'm the oldest."

"And how old are you?"

"Just turned eighteen a week ago."

"And you would be willing to do, anything, yes?" Crowley asked again, still looking oddly pleased with the replies.

"Yes," Michael answered again, bordering on irritation. "I will do anything to make sure they are happy and safe. Please sir, if you want me to do housework, or do some other work for you, I will."

"Just one question," Crowley interrupted, holding up a finger. "Is Lucifer really your brother's name?"

Michael blinked in confusion, the hand on his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "No," he attempted to shake his head, but the hand on his chin prevented him from doing so. "His name is Nicodemus. Lucifer is just his nickname; he hates his real name."

"I see," it didn't sound like Crowley cared too much. "Well, have a nice nap."

"What?"

Something sharp pierced the crook of his neck and he cried out, wanting to flinch away but Crowley's grip on him was firm; tightening so much he thought it would bruise his arm. Whatever was being pushed in him had immediate effects. The world became fuzzy; and Crowley's face became cloudier. Everything seemed to be swimming and he lost his balance, falling to the ground as the older man let go of his arm.

Everything after that didn't make sense. It had been sometime in the late afternoon when he went to speak with Crowley, but he had no idea what time it was now. After whatever the older man injected him with, he had no recollection of anything at the moment. The world was so slow; and odd looking. It made him think he needed glasses for a while.

"Gentlemen, oh, and ladies, I would like to show you someone very special."

As his eyes tried to focus on reality, he realized he was not in Crowley's home. Or maybe he was; who knew. It was dark and dimly lit, with a soft bass booming in the back of wherever he was. He could make out through his hazy vision several pairs of eyes looking at him. Some indifferent, and some, well, he didn't know exactly how to describe it. He tried to sit up, but ended up falling over and multiple people laughed.

He felt embarrassed, and confused. Where was he? Why was he here? He tried to move his hands, but quickly realized they were bound. He couldn't move his hands and when he opened his mouth to speak, he couldn't. He was cold, and quickly came to the realization he didn't have a shirt. He felt indecently exposed in front of all these people and attempted to curl into himself. At least he still had his jeans on.

"This is Michael," he picked up Crowley's voice, though his mind was too sluggish to make out his voice. Whatever was around his neck, he felt the tug and was forced to his knees, exposed once again to the world. "Can you guess what makes him so special?"

"He's Chuck's kid!" someone called out, though how they could know this was beyond him. "He's your nephew!"

A few more people laughed ironically, and he could make out something on their faces. A few of them wore masks, hiding their identities, but others didn't. A perfectly relaxed woman, with whom he believed to have red hair, watched him with faintly concealed interest. When he tried to focus on her a bit more, she disappeared, as if she had never been there.

"That's right," a leather gloved hand pulled on his black hair, pulling his head back. "And guess who he resembles? Just look at these eyes."

A few people leaned forward, a few giving gasps. "He looks like Eve," one man commented, and he could make out an accent. "How ironic."

Crowley released his head, and it slumped down. He didn't have the energy to lift it back up. It hurt; a dull ache was beginning to form in the back of his mind. "And tonight," Crowley started again, as if he were some sort of attraction that needed to be paraded around. "For the right price, darlings, you can have him."

He could barely register what his uncle was saying, but it didn't sound good. What did Crowley want from him? What was he talking about? "We'll start at $50,000."

"I'll give $55,000!"

"$65,000!"

"$80,000!"

The room went quiet, and Crowley paused as no one spoke. He raised his hands together, almost ready to strike the deal. "$80,000. Going once. Going twice…"

"$100,000."

No one spoke and a few heads whipped around to see the owner of the voice. Michael couldn't see his face very well; it was clouded and the more he tried to focus on it, the harder his head hurt. The only thing he could make out were a pair of distinct, sick looking yellow eyes.

Crowley was ecstatic. "Going once, going twice. Sold!"

Two pairs of hands grabbed him, lifting him up from his kneeling position. He was forced onto his feet, though he could barely walk as they led him away. A voice, that he swore he'd heard earlier, echoed around him. "Does Chuck even know about this?" It didn't sound concerned, only amused

"It's not like you care, Balthazar. Besides, you already have a plaything."

The man, Balthazar, only took a sip from whatever he was holding in his hands and held up his hands in a show of surrender. At least, he thought he did. It was kind of hard to tell at this point.

He could feel himself being shoved into a simple room, tossed onto a feather soft bed with silk sheets. They were dark, but he couldn't make out the color. From a crack in the door, he could see the man with strange eyes hand something over to Crowley, the two of them then shaking hands. The yellowed eyed man then entered the dimly lit room and closed the door, smiling at him.

It wasn't a pleasant smile; rather it made fear crawl down his spine. He struggled to crawl out of the bed, but his reflexes were too slow. His limbs felt like lead, or Jell-O; something of that sort. The man only reached forward, grabbing the thing around his throat. "Your father ruined my life," he started, his voice holding a strange accent that he wanted to peg as Southern, but wasn't sure. "Put me behind bars for twenty-five years. Destroyed my career; my reputation. Now it's time for revenge."

He raised his head sluggishly, blinking up at the strange man. "What…are you…talking…about?"

The man then ran a hand through his hair, pushing him back on the bed to crawl on top of him. "You're a beautiful boy; I'm surprised there's no lady in the picture," his emotions were running everywhere; his body wasn't working the way it was supposed to. He could barely hear and feel anything. "I can't get revenge directly, but this, this will do for now."

The next thirty minutes, or perhaps it was longer, was something he couldn't really recall. There was pain, a lot of pain. Yet it was dulled due to whatever Crowley injected in him. He could feel the man's fingers inside him, stretching him to the point he thought he would snap. While it hurt, the chemical in him was dulling most of it out.

The reason was, he imagined, to prevent him from fighting back. He never agreed to THIS. He wasn't even attracted to men; at least he didn't think he was. He wanted to vomit at the feel of the man's wet breath against his skin, and he so desperately wanted to run but his limbs couldn't move. He wouldn't be able to run and escape. He was trapped, in this cage.

Everything blurred together and at one point, he thought he was going to be sick. He could feel the man moving in and out of him in a forceful rhythm. Hands were all over him, caressing his body and causing him to give an involuntary shiver. This continued on for a long time, and the strange man didn't just use him once. Oh no, it happened two more times before he collapsed on top of him, panting hotly in his ear. A few minutes later, he removed himself and put his clothes back on. Through his drug induced haze, he could see the door open and then close, leaving him alone on the bed.

He lay in the filthy sheets, not having the strength to move. For a moment, he thought he'd fallen asleep when he suddenly woke up when a hand smacked him across the face. "Up and at 'em," Crowley sneered and then smirked at his attempts to cover himself. "Oh, trying to act like the blushing virgin now, aren't you?"

Maybe it was the effects of the drugs wearing off, (or maybe it wasn't), but he only continued to wrap himself in the blanket, his body too numb to do anything else. Even when a pair of jeans and a clean shirt was thrown at him, he didn't flinch.

Crowley said nothing to him the rest of the time they were there. As the drugs wore off and he was able to move freely on his own, they left. In the car, a hundred dollar bill was tossed on his lap, not even crinkled or used looking. "It's yours," the man replied, looking at his phone disinterestedly. "You and your hard work earned it."

He walked, well, stumbled back in the house and tried not to be embarrassed as he weakly walked up the stairs to the room. He tiptoed inside, removing his clothing and setting them inside the laundry hamper. He put on a fresh t-shirt and boxer shorts before crawling into the bed beside his brother, who slept peacefully.

"Good night, Luce," he whispered out loud before his eyelids shut.

He didn't even know the time he returned to the house was two in the morning.

* * *

**(Exactly one day later)**

While Anna enjoyed her gifts, the rest of the day was pretty forgettable. The redheaded girl didn't seem to mind so much, as the day was a swift reminder of how everything had changed. It was the first birthday she'd celebrated without either of their parents. "We didn't celebrate yours, Mikey," she realized at one point in the day after opening a package holding fancy pencils and three new coloring books. "We didn't celebrate it at all."

"It's okay," he waved it off, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "We were busy."

She didn't bring it up again, and was rather glad she did. Lucifer was a bit annoyed with him, badgering on where he was two nights ago. "I told you," he growled in annoyance to his younger brother. "I was helping Crowley in exchange for money."

"What work lasts that long?" the blonde snapped, arms crossed. "You're a terrible liar. I know you're hiding something and I'm going to find out, Micha."

He was used to being called Michael, or Mikey, hell, Fun sucker at certain times. But rarely, if ever, did Lucifer call him Micha. Before the boy had been able to even pronounce his name properly, he had insisted on calling him Micha. None of the others called him that, settling for Mikey or even worse, Mike.

As he was sitting there on his bed watching the others, it dawned on him. It hit him like a wave crashing over the shore; the dull emptiness changing into sickening pain. He wanted to hide, curl up in a protective ball and bury the feelings away.

He'd been…raped. Could boys even be raped? Was this really happening? All the questions swarmed in his mind; his heart picking up its pace. Slamming against his rib cage, the recollection of what had happened only two nights ago hit him.

"Michael, why are you crying?"

At the sound of Gabriel's voice, (actually sounding concerned, for once), he jumped, bringing a hand to his cheek. Wet tears were sliding down and he smiled shaking his head. "Nothing, I just was thinking," he shrugged it off, wiping them away. "Now, who wants to play a game?"

He tried to ignore the scrutinizing look on Lucifer's face.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note: **Sorry for not updating in, like, forever! Last semester was crazy and my summer was supper busy with my job. I'm back now! With a bunch of ideas for how I want this story to go! Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far and followed. You guys are amazing!  
_

**_Warnings:_**_ None_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I don't own Supernatural and never will. I only own OCs that may or may not appear. _

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**(****_Lucifer's pov, October 19, Crowley's house)_**

No matter what he did, he couldn't get Michael to speak.

He knew Michael could be unnervingly quiet at times (something Castiel was beginning to pick up on), yet this was getting to be a little too much. Here they were, ten days after Anna's birthday had passed and his older brother _still _wouldn't say anything about where he'd been the night before her birthday. He didn't see what the big deal was; it wasn't like he'd done something illegal. Michael was a good boy, always doing what Father asked even if he didn't agree with it. Always sacrificing his own needs and desires to put everyone else's first.

Really, it was almost _sickening _to see how much of a martyr he really was.

Whatever he was hiding, he couldn't keep it away from him forever. He knew Michael better than he knew himself; he couldn't hide anything from him. It wasn't like he noticed the small looks of pain that would flash over his face, the little red mark that was on his neck. He had observed it one night, when the moon was shining over the bed they shared and allowed enough light for him to see it. Of course by now it was gone, but it looked like he'd been stabbed with something. A needle, perhaps.

"So, are you going to tell me where you went?"

He knew this question caught Michael off guard by the way he jumped and nearly dropped the book in his hands. A brief flash of annoyance crossed in his blue-gray eyes, but he then just sighed in exasperation and picked the book up once more. "Can I help you, Luce?"

"Answer the question," he leaned against the bookcase in the attic, briefly registering the sounds of the other three in the space nearby. They were playing a board game or something, managing to find one in one of the various boxes placed around. An old version of Candy Land, or perhaps Clue. "Come on, you know you can tell me. I'm bored; entertain me."

Michael, being the "Oh-so" mature person he was, just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I was doing some work for Crowley in the town. I told you this already."

"Well I don't believe you. So fess up."

"Just drop it already, will you?" Michael's gaze met his, a hardening stare that told him he was going to be stubborn about this. "If you're so bored, go play with the others."

"I don't give a shit about Candy Land," he kept his voice low enough to not distract the younger three from their game. He just glared right back at Michael, with no intention of backing out and dropping the subject. If Michael wanted to be stubborn, well, two could play at that game. "Come on, Micha, give me details. What were selling? Drugs or something?"

"What? No!" Michael practically slammed his book together, closing it with such a force that the other three looked up from their game. He paused, taking a moment to catch his breath and briefly, his eyes closed. The others had returned to their game, losing interest ones they deemed nothing especially important was going on. "Look," his dark haired brother sighed, exasperation just oozing from his tone. "It was just a job that Crowley needed done. It took longer than expected and I'm sorry you were worried. But I'm fine, everyone else is happy for the most part, so there's no need to keep pushing the issue."

With that, he picked up his book once more and proceeded to find were he'd left off. If Michael didn't want to spill right now, fine. He could be patient if needed; Michael would eventually tell him. It could take a while, but Michael would eventually relent and tell him everything. Or he could ask their "Uncle Crowley", but he was pretty sure the man hated his guts.

The feeling was completely mutual. The man was a giant arrogant prick and he had no shame flaunting it around to everyone. While the house itself wasn't entirely unbearable to live in (thank god he had four siblings to torment), it was still boring as hell. He had a sense there were eyes everywhere; like the five of them were being watched. Even when he was on the internet trying to keep in touch with his "friends" back home, the connection was limited. Some days he couldn't even get connection and when he did, some sites were banned. As if all of a sudden there was a parental block or some outside force controlling his device.

To be clear, if he could find the source of the problem, he would take care of it. And quite honestly, he would have no problem beating the shit out of their dear old uncle.

He was forced back to reality when he felt a hand tug at his jeans. Castiel looked up at him an ominous look in his baby blues. He knelt down to the child's eye level, ruffling his dark brown hair as he did. "Whatcha want kiddo?" he asked teasingly, all traces of the earlier tension gone. "Bored already?"

"Why are you and Mikey fighting?" the boy asked, tilting his head in the way he did when he was curious. He bit his lip, staring up at him with worry. "Is Mikey mad?"

Damn, when did this child get so observant? He just smiled at the kid, giving a little scoff and pulling him into his arms. "Now what makes you think we're fighting, Cas?" he asked, pretending to sound innocent. From the corner of his eye he noticed Michael look up from his book for a brief moment.

Castiel looked over to Michael before returning back to him shyly. "Mikey slammed his book. Mikey never slams his book unless he's mad."

He simply laughed at the boy, the child making a face at him that soon disappeared once he started tickling him. The boy just started to shriek in delight and laughter, begging him to stop even though he clearly didn't mean it. The other two looked up from their board game, immediately grinning and ran over to join in the tickle their baby brother session. Even Michael's apathetic look softened, the tiniest smile pulling at the upper corner of his lips.

"S…STOP!" Cas giggled, face now flushed red from laughing so hard. "Luci stop!"

He set the kid down, giving him a quick nuggie that Michael used to do to him before he got too serious. The boy inhaled largely, the flush gradually leaving his face. He smiled affectionately at the young boy, and the thought suddenly dawned on him. He and Michael did look alike. Even though Michael's hair was much darker and Castiel's eyes were more of a bright blue than Michael's gray. Everything else though was similar, minus the curious look that was always present in his little brother's eyes.

"Luci," the young boy eventually spoke, holding his stomach like he was sick. "I'm hungry."

He looked over to Gabriel, who immediately looked down at the watch on his wrist. "It's twelve-thirty," he confirmed, making a face. "What, does he intend to starve us?"

"Hungry…" Castiel trailed off rather wistfully.

"I'll go talk to him."

They all turned in Michael's direction, realizing for the first time their oldest brother had spoken. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head; book abandoned on the seat next to him. "What?" he raised a dark eyebrow, arms now resting at his side. "Since it appears we probably aren't going to have lunch here, why don't I go see if we can have lunch in town?"

He noticed the younger ones' eyes light up at this idea, excited at the prospect at living this shithole. Not that he blamed them. Kids were supposed to go outside; meet new people and start fights. Okay, that was more him but the kids needed to go outside and get some air. They were looking paler, something he was definitely not okay with.

Michael disappeared down the stairs of the attic, closing the door softly behind him. He took his older brother's seat, taking the book that had been left abandoned on the couch. He had to raise an eyebrow at the flimsy paper back thing he was reading. Some book on college test preparation. He supposed that explained the pencil that was tucked behind his ear yet he scoffed at the book. Why did Michael even bother? They were already behind school, except for Castiel.

He felt slightly guilty for thinking that. He didn't care about school; never had but Michael was a different story. Michael had always enjoyed school, loved being in the top fifty of his class. Golden boy Michael with his perfect 4.0 GPA and his lowest Grade ever being a B+. He had overheard his parents once discussing Ivy League schools and he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at that. Any school would be lucky enough to have his oldest brother.

An odd feeling crawled down his spine at the thought of Michael leaving. Before, he tried not thinking about it. The weeks before school started left him lying awake at night, staring up at the ceiling. Michael's room was right next to his, and the reminder that next year, the room would be empty. The thought of Michael leaving left him with a bitter taste in his mouth; a part of him wanting him to never leave. More specifically, to never leave _him. _

Selfish thinking, he knew that. Michael had every right to live his own life; to explore the world. Just why did it have to be without him?

"Oh look, Luci's thinking!"

He blinked out his thoughts, finding Gabriel smirking at him. He cuffed the back of the shaggy dark blonde's head, earning an "Ow!" in the process. Served the kid right, he mused and smirked at the scowling boy. Before the boy could say anything more, Michael appeared at the top of the stairs to the attic, smiling pleasantly. "Alright, get your shoes," their older brother motioned for them to follow, taking two steps down the stairs. "I got money; Crowley said we could go."

It seemed rather odd that the Scottish/British sounding man was letting them go out. It was Wednesday; a school day. Would they be told to go to school by some lazy donut eating cop? And didn't Crowley not want them out of his sight? He didn't like it. There was something up and he'd be damned if he didn't find out what.

Though he could figure that out later. Right now, lunch sounded appealing.

* * *

The town is a lot smaller than he originally thought it would be.

It has an old fashioned sense to it; some of the buildings dating back to the Victorian era or so Michael commented as they walked through the town. An old fashioned looking barber shop, general store, a book store that Michael kept eying and even a soda Shoppe. Very few modern looking buildings were in the small town, with only two ATM machines and a sketchy looking phone booth. On any normal occasion he would think the town quaint and dismiss it to the back of his mind. Now, he hated it. It only made him miss home even more.

"This town is weird," Anna commented, looking around with skeptical eyes. "It looks like that town from The Sims 3. Midnight Hollow, I think."

"You're too young for that game," Michael looked down at her disapprovingly before looking at him and Gabriel in suspicion. "And where did you play this game?"

"At my friend Rachel's house. We watched as her older brother, Uriel, drowned our entire family we created," she stated this as if they were discussing the weather, oblivious to Michael's disturbed look. "Uriel's a jerk; we don't like him."

"I'll have to have a talk with his parents," Michael grumbled, shaking his head in distaste. "And you shouldn't play that game; you're too little."

"But Mikey!"

He noticed the faraway look in his brother's eyes. While the nine year old playing a game like that wasn't a huge deal, he knew what the actual problem was. The thought of their mother's death still made Michael's heart hurt. He didn't show it when the kids were around but sometimes at night he could see his brother's body shake as he tried to control himself. It was sad, really, how his older brother tried to keep everything under control; to pretend that he was fine. It was unhealthy and any day he would crack.

"Let's eat here," Gabriel tugged at Michael's sleeve, pointing to some building right in front of them. "It's open and is that cake?"

He had almost forgotten Gabriel's sweet tooth. He noticed the kids' eyes light up at the thought of sugary food and smirked at Michael's cringe. Three kids on a sugar high was not something he wanted to deal with. Yet Crowley's food was so bland and tasteless that it wouldn't kill Michael to have a headache later once the kids crashed.

"Fine," Michael sighed, pulling out his wallet and looking to see how much money he had. "Okay."

The restaurant was surprisingly modern on the inside. With dark oak wood tables, black vinyl booths and chairs. The décor had a European style to it with pictures of modern British and French artists and records hung on the walls. It had a comfy, relaxed environment perfect for teenagers and young adults to hang out in. They took one of the booths big enough to fit the five of them, the younger three squabbling over who would sit next to whom and questions on what the food was like.

By the time they all got settled, a boy around his age appeared at their table with a friendly smile, dark blonde hair somewhat messy as if he'd been running around. "Hello, my name is Samandriel and I'll be your server. What can I start you off with?"

"Chocolate milk," Castiel tugged on Michael's sleeve, looking a little uncomfortable in his booster seat. "Please."

"Me too!" Anna nodded, pausing when Michael gave her a stern gaze. "Please?"

"I want a chocolate milk shake," Gabriel requested, practically drooling at the thought. "With lots of whipped cream and extra fudge and two cherries!"

God, he was so getting diabetes in a few years though he could only smirk at Michael's grimace. "I'll have a Mtn. Dew," he ordered, scoffing slightly when Michael just ordered a water. When Samandriel left, he glanced at his older brother. "You know you can order whatever you want."

"Unlike some of you, I actually intend to stay healthy," Michael replied smoothly, not even batting an eyelash. "All that sugar will rot your teeth out."

"My teeth; my problem," he knew the aloof tone he was using irritated the older boy to no end, but he only reveled in the glare he was given. "Shouldn't you be more concerned about Gabe? I mean, those milk shakes look huge."

"I know," Gabriel licked his lips, smirking at Michael's disapproving gaze. "And it's going to be AWESOME!"

"Lower your voice!"

"Make me!"

He rolled his eyes at that answer, Michael clearly not pleased. The older boy didn't have any time to respond for Samandriel returned with their beverages. "Here you go," the boy smiled at them, setting the drinks down on the table. "Are you guys ready to order?"

"I think so," Michael nodded, looking down to what Castiel was pointing at. "I think he wants the chicken strips shaped like dinosaurs."

"Can I have them too, Mikey?" Anna asked, smiling up innocently at the older boy. "Please?"

"She'll have those too."

He ordered himself a burger, Michael and Gabriel doing the same and he sighed in contentment. When was the last time they had good food? He could see Anna and Castiel itching to go out to the playground nearby and he felt a hot flash of anger. How dare Crowley keep his siblings locked away inside! He and Michael could only keep them entertained for so long before they got antsy. Gabriel was old enough to understand that he was too old to throw a tantrum but he knew his little brother hated being kept indoors.

He would never admit it out loud, but he was glad they were able to get out for a little while. The longer he stayed in that house, the more it seemed like a cage. There was hardly anything to do and he hated the man who owned the house. He didn't think he could hate anyone more than he hated Crowley; the smug bastard who hated them for some reason he would probably never understand.

"Why hello there, kids. Why aren't you in school today?"

He suddenly realized there was a man standing before there table; about in his mid-twenties with tousled blonde hair. He was casually dressed in black jeans and a gray V-neck with a black blazer. His blue eyes didn't appear condescending though his voice certainly did. Michael looked up at the man politely but he could see the wary look in his eyes. "We're not from around here. We're staying with our Uncle for a while."

"Ah, so you're Crowley's kids."

He noticed Michael stiffen at the mention of their uncle's name. The man just laughed, sticking his right and out. "The name is Balthazar, not so humble owner of this fine establishment."

"…Michael," his older brother took the hand after a moment's pause, carefully giving out his name. "How do you know we're related to Crowley?"

"Well I haven't seen you five before," Balthazar stated, speaking as if these were obvious facts. "And this is a small town. Everybody knows _everybody. _Also Crowley stated before that he had four nephews and a niece. You all match the description. Oh, and sorry about your mother."

They all frowned at the reminder and as he looked at Michael, he noticed something…not quite right. He stared at Balthazar, brow furrowing as his gray/blue orbs studied the man. It was as if Michael had seen him somewhere before, which was ridiculous because they'd been kept inside for almost an entire month.

Oh wait, he almost forgot about Michael's little evening escapade a few days ago. "You two know each other?" he asked, Michael's scrutinizing gaze suddenly shifting to surprise.

"Oh, no," Michael shook his head, cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "No, Luce, I don't know him."

"I should think not," Balthazar spoke with that damn smirk still on his face. He didn't believe this man for once second. "I just know your Uncle. He comes here every now and then. Quite the businessman he is," the man gave a slight chuckle before pausing and looking down at them in something akin to sympathy, yet it looked wrong on his face. "I know, well, knew your mother. Your father too. Sorry about your loss. She was a good woman."

"They never mentioned you before. Bartholomew was it?" he leaned back in the booth, almost sneering at the man.

"Balthazar," the tousled blonde man replied smoothly, sneering back at him. "Might need to get your ears cleaned, boy."

"Balthazar," Samandriel appeared almost out of nowhere, face flushed and a dark smudge on his cheek. "We have a little situation in the kitchen."

The older man raised his eyes to the ceiling, glancing over at his employee. "And what, pray tell, happened?"

"The oven's not working and Inias says if you don't come in and try to fix it, he's quitting."

"I should fire him," Balthazar rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. He turned to his employee with a raised eyebrow. "And is there food done?"

"Yeah, it's done. The oven stopped working once the chicken strips were done."

"Good," he looked back to their small party, giving a little bow and a wink in Castiel's direction. "Your food will be out momentarily. It was nice to meet you, Michael's family."

He headed off in the direction of the kitchen, following Samandriel and if he wasn't mistaken, he could have sworn he saw Balthazar smack the younger male's ass. He shook the image away, filing it away to the back of his mind to hopefully forget later. Michael just stared at the table, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. Well, well, it looked like Michael was hiding something. He only started biting his lip if he was worried or guilty of something, which wasn't very often. He and that Balthazar fellow must know each other, he decided, and he would find out. Just not right now.

The burger that Samandriel placed in front of him looked absolutely delicious.

As they ate, mostly in silence minus the endless chatter of Anna and Gabriel. Michael was lost in thought, staring at something on the wall but not really looking at it. Castiel, naturally, was a quiet boy, though it was fascinating to watch him have a fake fight with his dinosaur nuggets. It just showed how distracted their oldest brother was, who would normally reprimand the boy for playing with his food.

The door to the restaurant opened and in walked a man wearing a police uniform. It was an ugly beige color that did little for the man's complexion. His receding gray hairline was a normal thing for a man his age but the most disturbing thing were his eyes. He sat at the table near the wall, his chair facing him. His eyes were sick cloudy yellow with barely any sign of his pupil. The badge on his chest indicated him as the sheriff, someone he knew Michael would not want him to mess with for fear of going to jail.

He did notice Samandriel stiffen slightly when he went towards him. The guy must be a douche; he decided and took a large bite out of his burger.

Yet the man's eyes didn't leave their table. He wasn't looking at them all, no, he was looking at someone rather specific. The man's creepy, sick yellow eyes stared at Michael with an expression he couldn't read very well. He knew Michael knew the man was staring at him. The way his jaw tightened and his body tensed in anticipation. There was something swimming in his brother's dark eyes. His face had paled dramatically and for a moment, he thought his brother was going to be sick. He kept blinking, as if trying to push something away; to pretend that the man was not there and staring at him like he was a piece of meat.

He looked back to the man, glaring at him and the man only gave a little wave, eyes still on Michael. The other three kids were oblivious, eating away at their food and asking if they could get dessert. The older boy just nodded, too distracted to argue that they didn't need dessert. He looked back at the yellow eyed man, who was now sipping coffee and looking at a newspaper in front of him. Another person Michael knew and wouldn't tell him about.

If someone had hurt Michael, he swore to God he would do something about it. He could question Crowley, yet that would probably get him nowhere. The man would probably laugh at him and tell him to go away. But he was not the type of person to take no for an answer.

With his eyes still on his brother, he took a long sip of his drink. He would find out what Michael was hiding, whether the dark haired boy wanted him or not.

* * *

He lay awake that night, listening to sound of his brothers and sister sleeping soundly in their beds. The space next to him was empty, a hollow reminder that Michael was gone once again. He sat up, running a hand through his messy blonde hair and stared outside through the window right next to their bed. The moon was waning tonight, yet still full enough he could see the silhouette of the sleepy little town.

Michael was out there somewhere, doing who knows what. He didn't think his brother would get caught up in something illegal, but something was wrong. Dinner that night had been awkwardly silent as usual, but he noticed the way Crowley stared at him. The way he stared at Michael made his skin crawl and the desire to protect the older boy emerged. He didn't feel that way often; Michael could take care of himself perfectly well, but if he couldn't; if something was happening to him…

He didn't think he could forgive himself if he let something bad happen to Michael.

He pulled himself off the bed, feet lightly touching the ground as he pushed open the door. The house was quiet, with all the lights off. Across from their room, was the room their father had stayed in when he was a child. He stepped in it, flicking on the light to find it completely neat and organized. It didn't feel like it belonged to their father. Back at home, their mother had to nag at him to clean his office where he wrote his books. She even once threatened to take away his liquor cabinet if he didn't, which prompted him to clean.

This room hadn't been touched in a while. Well, besides the night when their father spent in it before driving away home. Most of the furniture looked a bit dusty, the books on the book shelf yellowing with age. Cobwebs coated the corners of the ceiling and on the night stand was an alarm clock that had stopped working years ago. He could see his father living here, only the room a lot messier and not as dusty. He could see him sitting at the desk, writing or typing away at typewriter on his latest novel. He was, by no means, a terrible author. He'd read some of his books and was thoroughly entertained by them. Not one of the greatest authors of all time, but somehow they managed to make a lot of money.

Though the more he thought about it, where did all the money come from? His mother's nursing job made a lot and his father made decent money from his books, but they seemed to make a lot more than the typical jobs gave. Michael would probably tell him just to ignore it; to mind his own business and be grateful they weren't poor, but he couldn't be content to just sit in the dark.

He sat down on the bed, hand resting on the nightstand. A drawer was attached to it and gingerly he pulled it open, minus the squeak of protest it gave. There wasn't anything in the drawer besides a picture. He picked up the photograph, wiping away the dust that coated the flimsy piece of paper.

It was their mother, with her hair curled around her shoulders and wearing a black sweater. In her arms, was a baby with black hair and large gray blue eyes. He flipped the photo over to the back, finding writing on the back. "Six month old Michael," he whispered, eyes widening at the rest of it. "And my beloved Amara. But Mom's name was Eve?"

Wasn't it?

* * *

Ah, the plot thickens! Well, review please!


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